


The Disappearance of a Lady

by Teegar



Series: Short Stories Featuring Ensign Chekov [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 12:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teegar/pseuds/Teegar
Summary: Spock and Chekov become involved in the investigation of a kidnapping in this tribute to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic Sherlock Holmes adventure "The Disappearance of Lady France Carfax."





	The Disappearance of a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm attempting to collect all my old fanfics that once resided on my Geocities "Ensign Chekov Appreciation Page" from the 1990's and give them a new home here._
> 
>  
> 
> _This story was originally written in 1994. It appeared not only on the website, but was also published in fanzine I edited titled "Chekov: In Love and in Trouble."_
> 
>  
> 
> _I may qualify as a fandom ancient these days, but I am a A03 novice, so, please, if I have failed to properly tag anything in this story that should be tagged, don't hesitate to inform me in the comments._

"Isn't this a matter for the police?"

Ensign Chekov's eyes snapped open. When he'd taken this assignment to accompany the Enterprise's Science Officer to a prestigious conference held on Vidrine IV, he had formed a firm set of expectations. Mr. Spock had been invited to give a report on non-corporeal lifeforms the Enterprise had encountered at the Vidrine conference. Chekov had assumed that the duties of an assistant to the notoriously well-organized Vulcan would be rather light. Additionally, Vidrine IV itself was a resort planet, tucked away in one of the less-travelled edges of the Federation. In short, Chekov had expected this assignment to essentially be a vacation -- only interrupted by periodic occasions of saying, "Yes, Mr. Spock" or "Right away, sir."

What the ensign had failed to take into account was that Vulcans didn't take vacations. They didn't even sleep very much. He had also been unaware of Mr. Spock's popularity with his fellow scientists. Unlike any of Chekov's old friends, Mr. Spock's acquaintances all wanted to work rather than socialize. Two days at the conference and the ensign had already lost count of the number times they'd been approached with, "Ah, Spock. So good to see you. Heard you were coming. You've had some first hand experience with sub-atomic, pan-galactic, non-linear gobbledy-gook, haven't you? Good. If you and your assistant could spare a few moments..."

Chekov had finally resigned himself to the fact that the most he was going to see of Vidrine would be out the windows of the conference building. He'd been doing just that, daydreaming and longing for a little excitement while the Science Officer spoke with yet another person who had requested assistance. The last thing the ensign had anticipated was that one of Spock's rather intense but mild-mannered colleagues would approach them with anything that would necessitate the involvement of the local security forces.

"No, I'm afraid that's out of the question, Spock." Thazod Phan, a thin Andorian astrophysicist, ushered them into the small sitting room connected to his quarters. "She has not been gone long enough to be officially considered missing. Besides, the argument we had that precipitated her departure started with my insistence that she either retain a personal bodyguard or accept an implant that would keep Vidrine Security aware of her location at all times."

Chekov sat down in an unobtrusive corner chair, dying to know who "she" was. However, since asking would give away the fact he'd not been paying attention to anything the physicist had been saying for the past five minutes, the ensign decided to remain silent.

"My sister is a brilliant scientist," Phan sighed, being promptly and unknowingly helpful. "But she is quite naive politically."

"A dangerous combination for a specialist in antideuterium technology," Spock observed.

Chekov's eyebrows rose. No wonder this Andorian was so worried about his sister's whereabouts. Antideuterium technology was the science behind photon torpedos and weapons capable of even greater destructive force. If Phan's sister was as gifted as he claimed, the whole quadrant needed to be worried about her whereabouts.

"She believes herself to be as safe and unthreatened as any other Federation citizen on Vidrine." Phan shook his head. "I hope she is right. I hope I am reacting, as she did, too passionately."

"I am sure the Vidrine Security force is capable of sufficient discretion..." Spock began.

"I am not so sure," the Andorian interrupted. "There would be, if nothing else, official records to confirm I had made inquiries. I am not willing to take that chance. If, after the things that were said between us, my sister were to find that I sent someone to look for her after she'd been unaccounted for only for a matter of hours, I am certain that would spur her to more flagrantly rash behavior to defy me."

"A most unfortunate situation, however..."

Chekov could clearly hear the "no" in the Science Officer's "however."

"She is most probably at one of the recreational installations." The anxious tone in the Andorian's voice indicated that he had heard it too. "All that is required is that someone pinpoint her location and visually confirm her whereabouts until she returns. Thaisin is due to speak tomorrow afternoon."

"Unfortunately I myself have obligations..."

"Yes," the Andorian interrupted, "but your assistant... If you could possibly spare him...?"

Chekov suddenly found himself the object of two very critical gazes.

"He seems bright," Phan said, giving him the sort of appraising look usually bestowed on livestock. "And he could certainly pass for a tourist."

The Vulcan said nothing, but "no" was still clearly written in his manner.

"I assure you that at the first sign of trouble I will not hesitate to contact the proper authorities," the Andorian promised.

The Science Officer took a long moment to weigh matters, looking slowly back and forth between the two of them.

"Mr. Chekov," he said, at length. "Do you feel that you could aid Dr. Phan in quickly and discreetly locating his sister?"

Not wishing to appear hasty, the ensign also paused to consider. Should he spend the next day and a half sitting through lectures on things he couldn't pronounce and midnight debates between scientists on topics he didn't care to contemplate, or should he spend that time roaming around Vidrine IV's various recreational facilities?

"Yes, Mr. Spock," Chekov answered, trying not to smile. "Right away, sir."

***

 

Apart from the fact that he had completely lost track of his quarry, the search was, in Chekov's considered opinion, going rather well thus far. He took another sip of his drink and wondered what malicious creative force had decided to give Acturian women beautiful humanoid bodies and faces like fish. As if she caught his thought, the Acturian sitting across the pool from him glanced over her shoulder. Chekov decided that this would be a prudent time to re-check the small holograph Phan had given him of his sister Thaisin.

Thaisin Phan looked like her brother, thin and blue. Chekov couldn't place her as being either old or young. She seemed very serious in this picture. The ensign hoped she was less forbidding in person.

With her brother's permission, Chekov had accessed the missing scientist's financial account. Whenever she made a transaction, the time and location were automatically relayed to his tricorder. The last purchase Thaisin Phan had made was at this open air restaurant near the air-sail dock. Chekov figured that she had eaten lunch here then gone air-sailing. All he had to do was wait for the beep from his tricorder that would tell him that she returned and bought her dinner somewhere. A simple job... if he could only find something to keep his mind off that Acturian woman with the body of a goddess and the face of haddock.

Chekov suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the waiters point him out to a man in civilian dress. As the man moved towards him, the ensign quickly clicked off the holograph of Dr. Phan and tried to look immersed in the menu.

The man stalked over to Chekov's table and seated himself without introduction or invitation.

"Looking for somebody?" he demanded in a low, but threatening tone.

He was a large, muscular humanoid. Short curly red hair was growing over most of the parts of his huge body that weren't covered by his hiking costume.

"Uh.. Pardon me?" the ensign stammered.

The man twisted his thick features into an ugly frown. "Are you with him?"

"Him who?"

The stranger grabbed the tiny holograph projector and turned it on. "The other him who's looking for her."

"There's someone looking for her?" Chekov asked carefully avoiding an admission that he was searching for the Andorian.

The man's hands squeezed into fists as if he'd like to pummel the truth out of the ensign. Instead, he pulled another holograph out of his pocket. "I don't care what happens to the old blue bat, but you'd better pray nothing happens to her."

The picture the man shoved under Chekov's nose was of a pretty, young humanoid woman.

"Your sister?" Chekov ventured although the two had nothing visually in common other the fact that both were wearing what seemed to be a red stone embedded in their collar bone.

"My fiancee." The man snapped the holograph off. "I knew I shouldn't have let Marie take that job with..."

Seeing the sudden interest in the ensign's eyes, the man snapped his mouth closed. "Look," he said, grabbing a handful of Chekov's shirt for emphasis. "Tell whoever you work for that old bluebird here has gone hiking. She'll be gone for about three days. You'd better just wait for them to get back."

"Sir..." Chekov gently tried to disentangle the stranger's fingers. "I don't..."

Instead of letting go, the man grabbed another handful with his other hand. "Just remember," he said between his teeth. "I'll be able to track you quicker than you'll be able to track them. Understand?"

Without waiting for a response, the man released Chekov with a shove and stalked away.

In the wake of the attack, the ensign found himself to be the temporary center of attention in the small restaurant. The Acturian woman seemed to find the incident funny.

Reflecting that it was a pity that she also seemed to have the manners of a fish, Chekov was on the verge of paying his bill and exiting when his communicator beeped.

As unobtrusively as possible he took the device out and flipped it open.

"Spock here. Have you located Thaisin Phan yet, Ensign?"

Chekov sighed. "No, sir."

"It is imperative that you do so immediately. I have come across additional information that indicates she may be in greater peril than originally anticipated."

"I have indications that someone else is following her," Chekov replied, hoping he wasn't attracting any more unwanted attention. It wasn't unusual for civilians to carry personal communications devices, but it was very unusual for civilians to carry Star Fleet issue communicators.

"Indeed?" The Vulcan paused. "What manner of indications?"

Chekov smoothed down his shirtfront. "I was mistaken for an employee of whoever else is looking for her by the jealous boyfriend of a young woman who Thaisin Phan hired as a guide or companion of some sort."

"So your attempts to locate Dr. Phan have not gone completely unnoticed?"

Chekov sighed again. "No, sir, Mr. Spock," he apologized.

"How have you planned to proceed?"

"I am not certain how I will proceed now, sir. I was waiting for notification that Dr. Phan had made another financial transaction."

"Isn't it possible, Ensign," the Science Officer pointed out, "that she might have converted her credit into local currency which she could exchange without further affecting the balance of her account?" 

Chekov put his head against his hand, feeling fifteen different types of fool. "Yes, sir," he admitted. "That is entirely possible."

"Then you would seem to be at an impasse, Mr. Chekov."

"Perhaps not," he replied, a notion suddenly forming in his head. "As I said, Mr. Spock, the young lady who now seems to be accompanying Dr. Phan has a jealous boyfriend."

"Yes?" The Vulcan didn't sound enthusiastic.

"A boyfriend so jealous, in fact, he has her wear an irridium implant to match the one he wears."

"Irridium is not a native substance to this planet and would emit a unique quodinitional wave signature."

Chekov nodded. "Allowing her boyfriend to easily ascertain her whereabouts at any given moment."

"And allowing us to follow her just as easily. Very good, Mr. Chekov. Your alertness in this case almost negates your earlier carelessness."

"Th.." Chekov stopped, realizing he was about to thank his superior for calling him incompetent. He sighed instead. "Yes, sir, Mr. Spock."

"However I think you'll find that the young lady is wearing an iridium implant because she is in the employ of a company that conducts guided tours of wilderness areas surrounding your location."

"What?"

"I believe it is a common practice for such businesses to track the locations of their guides while they are in the field in such a manner."

"Oh." Chekov hated to give up his more dramatic explanation. "But that means I will get multiple readings of irridium. How will I know which one to follow?"

"Try the one furthermost away, Ensign," the Vulcan said as if this were something a child could have easily deduced, "and not in the woods."

***

 

Marie, which he gathered was the name of the young lady he was following, was even prettier in person. She seemed to be expecting him as she smiled and beckoned the ensign over to her table.

Chekov shook his head as he crossed to her. He'd clearly blown the "extreme discretion" part of his assignment.

Rather than looking out of place in her brown and green hiking gear, the young woman looked refreshingly natural in the midst of the slick, metallic decor of the hotel bar.

"Hello, Mr. Spy," she said amiably as he sat down opposite her. "Jojo warned me you were going to be coming, but he didn't tell me you were cute."

Chekov cleared his throat. "Your fiance?"

She raised her eyebrows. "He told you he was my fiance?"

This assignment was getting better by the minute.

"I go out with the guy a couple of times, he helps me get this job as a guide, and now he thinks he owns me." The young woman rolled her eyes expressively. "Although, I suppose I do owe him. He was the one who spotted the other guy who was following the Andorian lady and me. And he did spot you..." She shook a finger at him. "You shouldn't have been flashing that holograph around. It was a dead give away."

The ensign felt his cheeks coloring. "About this other person who was..."

"Wait," she smiled. "Aren't you going to buy me a drink?"

"Yes, certainly." Chekov took his own credit chip from his pocket rather than using the one Thazod Phan had provided. Somehow it didn't seem appropriate to put this on the Andorian's expense account. "Have anything you'd like."

She pushed a button on the menu panel then looked at him with large green eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. "And what would you like?"

Chekov bit his lip and hoped that Thaisin Phan was going to turn out to be somewhere very close for a very long time. "Some information."

"Look." Marie leaned forward pushing her long brown hair away from her face. "If you're looking for the Andorian lady, I honestly don't know where she is right now. She was just using me to throw her brother or somebody off her trail. She's paid me to go hike up Mount Anronst -- reporting to my base that she's with me. But with all the spooks and grif-grabbers hanging around I got the flitzes and bailed. I guess I'll have to give back her money, but there's no way I'm going out a trail by myself with people thinking she's with me."

Chekov wished he'd brought a universal translator. "Oh?"

His companion laughed as a waitress delivered an coral-tinted drink. "You look confused."

The ensign shrugged. "Well..."

"This..." The young woman held up a small piece of local currency then handed it to the waitress. "... is a grif. Grif-grabbers are the Johnsonians that work the tourists."

"Johnsonians?"

"Yeah. You know, missionaries." She sipped her drink. "Out to save the universe for God and traditional Federation culture and all. The bunch that sucked in Dr. Phan was trying to raise money to send someone to Elas, a planet just a couple of systems away from here."

"Elas? But Elasian culture is completely violent and militaristic."

"If you look at it from their point of view," Marie countered, "who needs missionaries more?"

"But such interference in the culture of a non-aligned planet is strictly forbidden by the Federation."

"I think that's what really attracted Dr. Phan to them. She's very into peace and love type things and very anti-establishment. She thinks it's great for people to defy the government for a good cause. She was eager to do anything to help them."

"Hmm." Chekov chewed his lower lip contemplatively. Presumably a group of missionaries wouldn't think of asking for help in the form of photon weapons. "So she went with these..."

"Grif-grabbers?" Marie nodded. "Yeah. An older man. Human. Probably an Earther. Kind of fat and slimy. I think his name was Reverend Grimface or Grimstead or something. And a woman I think may have been his wife. Human. Prune-faced. Always looked like she was smelling around for something that had gone bad. They said they had a retreat near here."

The ensign nodded trying to translate these into descriptions he could relay to Mr. Spock. "What about the others... The.. uh.."

"Spooks?" Marie smiled. "Being one yourself you should know."

Chekov tried to puzzle it out, then shook his head.

"Spies," she informed him in a stage whisper. "A guy has been following us ever since the doctor hooked up with me. As a matter of fact, I think he's still around the hotel somewhere right now."

"You have seen this man?"

Marie nodded. "Yeah, but not a very good look. I can tell you he's pretty big. Very dark. Dark hair. A pointy dark beard. Dark skin. Wears a hat. Humanoid, but I don't think he's human."

'A Klingon,' Chekov automatically concluded, his heart skipping a beat. "If you would excuse me for a moment..." he said, rising.

The young woman grinned. "Hafta go check in with Spy Central, huh?"

Chekov smiled and shrugged. "If you wouldn't mind remaining here, I may have more questions."

"Sure." She ran a finger along the rim of her glass. "Maybe we can even talk about undercover work."

This was definitely turning out to be much more of an interesting assignment than he had anticipated. The ensign quickly made his way into an empty courtyard adjoining the hotel lobby and flipped open his communicator. "Mr. Spock."

"Spock, here. Have you been able to locate Dr. Phan, yet, Ensign?"

"She's not at this location, but I have been told she is probably nearby with some... religious people."

"Johnsonian missionaries?"

"Yes, sir," Chekov answered, surprised.

"A man going by the name Grimes?"

"No, Grimface... I mean, Grimstead, Rev. Grimstead."

"Hmmm. Most disturbing."

"Yes." Chekov supposed it would be rather unpleasant to fall into the hands of missionaries while one was on vacation. "Mr. Spock, I have also learned that Dr. Phan is being followed by..."

"Did your informant mention noticing any peculiar odors?" the Vulcan interrupted.

Chekov didn't think the woman who looked like she was smelling something sour would count. "No. As I was saying, they are being followed by someone who sounds very much as though he could be..."

"That is inconsequential, Ensign," Spock dismissed abruptly. "Ask your informant if she noticed any peculiar aromas while she was near Grimstead."

"But, Mr. Spock..."

"If she did," the Vulcan continued over him. "I must speak with her immediately."

"But the man..."

"Do not trouble yourself with anyone else who may be following Dr. Phan," Spock instructed firmly.

"But, sir..."

"Do I make myself clear, Ensign?"

Chekov sighed. "Yes, Mr. Spock."

"It is imperative that I have the information I have asked for immediately. I will await your call, Mr. Chekov."

"Yes, sir." Chekov closed his communicator with a snap. He was sure Spock had a good reason for ignoring him. He usually did. The only reason that came to mind right now was that the Vulcan wanted to make Chekov look like an utter fool in front of a very beautiful woman. Asking about missionaries' body odor when there was probably a Klingon agent on the premises! What would she think?

The ensign shook his head as he resignedly re-entered the lobby. He only took a few steps in the direction of the bar before he came to a dead stop. There, only a few paces ahead of him, was the huge back of a man fitting the description Marie had given him. The dark man paused slightly in front of the entrance to the bar before moving quickly towards the lobby's exit.

Chekov only took a split second to weigh his obligations. Asking about strange smells could clearly wait. He followed the stranger out of the hotel.

The ensign was momentarily taken aback to discover a night skyline outside. Following Marie's signal, he'd transported to a location nearly on the other side of the planet from his starting point. The stranger was moving swiftly away. Chekov followed at a careful distance down a nearly empty moving corridor for pedestrians. A loud, drunken group of Bergerians stepped onto to the conveyer in front of him. A monorail roared past above. Hotels and shops lined each side of the moving walkway. Between buildings, the ensign thought he caught glimpses of what looked and sounded like an ocean or a large lake. While trying to determine which it probably was, Chekov almost missed seeing his target duck down a narrow passageway between two buildings.

"Excuse me," he said, pushing past the Bergerians.

They clicked and buzzed what sounded like rather rude comments in their native language after him as he raced into the passageway, drawing his phaser.

It was a disappointingly empty dead end. There was, however, a side door leading into the building on the right. The ensign approached it cautiously. Taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on his phaser, he pressed the entry pad beside the door.

As soon as it slid only partially open, a huge booted foot shot out, striking the ensign squarely in the chest and sending him and his weapon flying.

The stranger from the hotel lobby was on him instantly. In one hand he held a disrupter of some sort and in the other... an identification card?

"Vidrine Security," the dark man announced, returning his ID to his pocket and producing a pair of restraints. "You're under arrest."

***

 

Chekov decided that the only thing worse than sitting in a Security office in restraints had to be sitting in a Security office in restraints in front of a Vulcan who happened to be your superior officer with an "I told you so" look on his face.

"Of course you realize," the dark man, who had turned out to be a human called Detective Delorn Rotkowski, was saying, "that I could hold him for having an unauthorized weapon in a public zone."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "Legally, you are quite entitled to do so."

"But, but..." Chekov sputtered. "I thought he was... I was led to believe... He could have been a Klingon agent, Mr. Spock."

"The detective could have been the president of the Federation High Council, Ensign," the Science Officer returned unsympathetically. "Fortunately for you, he was not."

Chekov drew in a deep breath. "I thought..."

"You thought that what you saw as an opportunity for heroics -- possibly to protect or impress the young lady you were interviewing -- was more important than carrying out my instructions."

The ensign opened his mouth to protest, but realizing he was guilty as charged, he had to close it again.

"Had you taken a moment to consider, Ensign, it might have occurred to you that -- despite Thazod Phan's reluctance to take this matter to the authorities -- conference security would routinely make it a point to keep track of the whereabouts of a scientist with a specialty as sensitive as Dr. Phan's."

"Yes, sir." Chekov felt his cheeks going pink as he looked down at the restraints around his wrists. "I hadn't considered that possibility. I realize I behaved rashly..."

"Indeed. Violation of local codes..."

"Okay, okay," the Vidrinian detective interrupted. "No need to bring out the cat o'nine tails, Commander. The point's been made. I'm not going to press charges against your assistant here, but I just want it understood that I don't appreciate Star Fleet cutting in on local security matters."

"I originally allowed Mr. Chekov to investigate Thaisin Phan's disappearance only to pacify Thazod Phan. However, since Gerond of Cartos seems to be involved in the disappearance of Dr. Phan," Spock countered, "I'm afraid this has also become a matter of concern for Star Fleet."

"Gerond of Cartos?" Rotkowski repeated. "The arms dealer?"

"Alleged arms dealer," the Vulcan corrected. "Formal charges were never brought against him. It is my belief that he is now masquerading as a human called Grimes or Grimstead."

"The missionary?" Chekov asked disbelievingly.

The Vulcan nodded. "Thaisin Phan is a known supporter of Johnsonian causes. I suspect Gerond has assumed the guise of a proselytizer of that sect to persuade or coerce her into divulging restricted information about Federation armament technology which he in turn will attempt to sell to the non-aligned cultures the Johnsonians arrange to visit."

"It would be a perfect cover for him," Rotkowski agreed. "Because most Johnsonian missions are primarily set up for humanitarian aid, lots of planetary governments are willing to turn a blind eye to them despite the potential for cultural contamination."

"Marie said that the people Dr. Phan went with were planning to go to Elas," Chekov reported.

Spock nodded. "A culture that would certainly seem to desire armament technology more than humanitarian aid."

"How can you be sure Grimes is Gerond?" the detective asked.

"I am not," Spock replied. "However, as you are well aware, there is a trail of evidence that puts his probable location on this planet. The appearance of 'Reverend Grimes' on Vidrine coincides roughly with the disappearance of Gerond. Additionally, although a Cartosian can visually pass for a human with only minor cosmetic alterations, they have radically different body chemistry that produces a distinctive scent that would be difficult to mask."

Realizing where this was leading, Chekov sank a little lower into his seat.

"In spite of Mr. Chekov's..." The Vulcan paused for an excruciating second. "...distraction from his task, by placing a call to the hotel where he located the young lady who had been accompanying Dr. Phan, I was able to obtain statements from witnesses who had noticed odors while in the presence of Rev. Grimes consistent with what can be expected of a Cartosian attempting to pass as a human. A tricorder scan at close range would confirm that Grimes is Gerond."

"Okay." Rotkowski crossed from behind his desk to Chekov and clicked the restraints off the ensign's wrists. "Then let's roll."

Spock frowned. "If by that you mean you intend to move immediately to confront Grimes, I would have to advise against it."

"Why?" Rotkowski asked.

Chekov had to agree with the detective. Both getting him out of restraints and going after Grimes seemed like good and logical ideas.

"We have no conclusive proof that Grimes is Gerond," the Vulcan pointed out. "Neither do we have evidence of any wrong doing on his part. Dr. Phan is reported to have gone with him of her own will. Even if we do find her in his company, there is little we can do to compel her to leave."

Rotkowski smiled. "Oh, yes there is."

Spock did not return his smile. "Legally."

"You leave the legalities to me." The detective patted him on the shoulder patronizingly as he headed for the door. "Coming along, gentlemen?"

The Vulcan's frown deepened. "It looks as though we must."

***

 

"I must protest! This is a house of God!"

"And you, sir," Chekov said, consulting the readout on his tricorder, "are a Cartosian."

Grimes/Gerond drew himself indignantly up to his full height, towering head and shoulders over the ensign. "That is no crime."

"Yeah." Detective Rotkowski stepped toe-to-toe with the portly missionary. "But concealing that fact is mighty suspicious... Isn't it, Gerond?"

The Cartosian eyed them warily. All around him, Rotkowski's men were making noisy work of searching the pre-fab building. So far it seemed to contain only a lectern, rows of uncushioned benches, an elaborate sound system and several pictures of a long-haired bearded man holding little Tellerite children in his lap. An elderly lady hovered nervously at Gerond's side looking at the detective and the two Star Fleet officers as if she were smelling something very bad indeed.

"When I converted to a human religion," Gerond explained cooly, "I adopted a human name and human mannerisms. None of these things are illegal."

"But a little unusual," Rotkowski persisted. "Wouldn't you agree, Gerond?"

The Cartosian refused to rise to his bait. "I am well aware of you hostility to Johnsonians, Detective. This latest persecution unfortunately comes as no surprise. But I am amazed to see Star Fleet officers joining in your petty campaign of harassment."

"This is Commander Spock and Ensign Chekov," Rotkowski introduced, still managing to keep a hostile tone in his voice. "They are looking into the disappearance of Dr. Phan. Do you know anything about Dr. Phan, Rev. Gerond?"

"Yes, Mrs. Grimstead and I gave her a tour of our facilities just a few hours ago," the Cartosian replied calmly. "And since she promised a rather large contribution to our cause, I most sincerely hope no ill has befallen her."

Chekov suspected his composure was only a facade. The room was beginning to reek of a scent like that of old wine. The ensign consulted his tricorder again.

"Yeah," Rotkowski agreed grimly. "You'd better hope that."

"Mr. Spock." Chekov aimed his tricorder at the ceiling. "I'm getting an anomalous reading."

"Of what nature?" Spock asked, breaking the observant and faintly disapproving silence he had been holding thus far.

"I think it's a small stasis field, sir. Located above us. Approximately six and a half feet long, two feet wide, and four feet deep."

"The size of a coffin," Rotkowski concluded immediately, then turned and yelled to his men, "We've got 'em, boys. Look for an attic door!"

"No! No!" the elderly woman protested as the Security men sprang into action. "You can't! You can't!"

"Wanna bet?" The detective grinned as one of his underlings pressed a button that slid open a panel in the ceiling and caused a metal ladder to descend. "Come on, sister," he said, grabbing her arm and steering towards the ladder. "Let's go see who's in the box."

"This is an outrage!" Gerond protested as two of Rotkowski's assistants hustled him forward and upwards in a like manner.

"Do you think they've actually killed Dr. Phan, Mr. Spock?" Chekov asked, following the detectives.

"There is that possibility, Ensign," the Vulcan confirmed gravely as he brought up the rear. "Although she went with them freely, they may have made requests for technological information that she would not agree to divulge. The Grimsteads may have inadvertently revealed themselves as frauds. Knowledge of our investigations could have caused them to panic... There are any number of reasons why a living Dr. Phan may have become an intolerable burden."

The attic of the Grimsteads meeting house was filled with stacks of printed material, discarded sound equipment, and a large black box that stood in one corner.

"Open it up," Rotkowski ordered.

"But, you can't!" Mrs. Grimstead protested. "This is monstrous!"

"Go on, dear," her husband encouraged her. "I'm sure Sister Zenelda will forgive this sacrilege in light of the circumstances."

The old woman screwed her face up into a frightful scowl as she pressed a release that opened the top of the casket.

Inside the twinkling stasis field, instead of a middle-aged Andorian woman, was a tiny ancient Tellerite female.

"Sister Zenelda died of natural causes a few days ago," Gerond explained. "She was a member of our small congregation with no family on Vidrine. We requested and received permission to store her remains here until her survivors' consent for proper disposal arrives from Teller. The stasis field is a routine and necessary precaution against contamination or further decay until the family's wishes are made known." "Are you quite satisfied, gentlemen?" Mrs. Grimstead asked acidly. "Disturbing the rest of a harmless old woman..."

"So you've got permits and all the proper documentation?" Rotkowski asked, sounding somewhat abashed under all his abrasiveness.

Gerond closed the lid of the coffin and gestured to the ladder. "I will be more than happy for you to examine our records... duplicates of which are on file with Vidrine Security."

"You've not heard the last of this, Gerond," the detective warned as he climbed down.

"Neither have you, Detective," the Cartosian replied pleasantly, descending after him.

His wife sniffed contemptuously as she passed Chekov. "So much for Sherlock Spock and Ensign Watson."

***

 

Chekov unhappily correlated the seismic data one of Mr. Spock's colleagues had generously provided with the Science Officer's previous files at a workstation in the room connecting their quarters at the conference center. The task was no different from any he'd been assigned two days ago, but Spock's heavy silence was making the ensign feel as though he was being punished.

"Mr. Spock," he said, hoping conversation might lighten the room's increasingly oppressive atmosphere. "Those names that missionary woman called us... Weren't they a reference to something?"

The Vulcan gave him a look that made the ensign sorry he'd done anything to draw attention to himself. "Your lack of knowledge of English literature is lamentable, Mr. Chekov," he reproved. "Mrs. Grimstead was ironically comparing us to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr. Watson."

"For a missionary, she's not very polite," Chekov observed, turning back to the computer.

"As detectives, you and I have also proved ourselves sadly lacking, Ensign," Spock reminded him.

Chekov shrugged. "We did what we could."

"Which was to completely fail to find Dr. Phan while at the same time alerting the persons most likely to have abducted her of our efforts," the Vulcan summarized. "Thus potentially putting her life into greater jeopardy than if we had made no effort at all."

The ensign shook his head as he started on a new row of figures. "It was like participating in a contest where the rules are not announced until after the game is over. I didn't even realize that a stasis box would be used as a coffin."

"I too feel there is vital information I have failed to consider, Mr. Chekov," Spock said, steepling his fingers.

"Such a big coffin for a such little woman," Chekov continued mostly to himself, as he entered a new set of instructions into the computer.

The Vulcan looked up. "What did you say, Ensign?"

"Big coffin." Chekov held his hands about a foot apart then moved them closer together. "Tiny woman. It didn't make sense."

For a moment the Vulcan was held in a paralyzing grip of thought, like a computer struggling with an insoluble algorithm.

"Yes, it does." A strange expression settled on the Vulcan's face. "It makes perfect sense. Call Detective Rotkowski, Mr. Chekov."

"Sir?"

"Tell him to meet us at the Grimsteads' compound as quickly as possible," the Vulcan ordered, gathering up their tricorders and phasers as well as the small medikit that came with the room. "And hope that Gerond of Cartos still believes Thaisin Phan is more valuable to him alive than dead."

***

 

"Please remain as you are!"

Spock had not waited for Rotkowski and his officers when they had arrived at the Grimsteads meeting house, but had barged into what was unmistakably a funeral service with his phaser drawn.

Chekov had followed suit a little shame-facedly. The black box stood in front of Gerond/Grimes who was at the lectern. The ensign was amazed that such loud singing was coming from such a meager handful of mourners until he realized he was hearing the room's sound system at work.

"This is unacceptable!" Gerond roared over the pre-recorded choir. "Your previous intrusion I was almost persuaded to overlook, but..."

"Please take a seat on the front row," Spock ordered, motioning him away from the lectern with his phaser. "You, also, Mrs. Grimstead."

The music ended abruptly as Mrs. Grimstead flipped a switch beside her. "Do you have a search warrant?" she demanded shrilly in the sudden stark silence.

"No, madame," the Vulcan responded. "But I do have a phaser and if you do not follow my instructions within the next thirty seconds I will use it."

Chekov kept them and the rest of the mourners covered as they moved to the front row of benches. Spock hurried forward to the coffin and pressed a control that deactivated its stasis field.

"Mr. Chekov," he said, moving aside and training his phaser on the Grimsteads. "There should be a control located somewhere inside the lining of the casket. Please locate and activate it."

"Yes, sir." Chekov moved forward, but hesitated when he realized his assignment would involve touching the old woman's corpse.

"Is there some difficulty?" the Vulcan asked noting his delay.

"She's... she's very dead, sir," Chekov informed him apologetically.

"And therefore should not be able to harm you in any way, Ensign," his superior assured him.

"Yes, sir." Holding his breath, Chekov felt gingerly around and finally beneath the cold body of the old Tellerite. At last he found something that felt like a button. "Got it, Mr. Spock." As the base of the coffin began to slide back, there was a flurry of motion from the front row and the whine of an energy weapon being discharged. Chekov turned to find Mrs. Grimstead had been stunned in the process of drawing a concealed weapon. Gerond was making a dash for the back door.

Spock prevented the ensign from pursuing him with a hand on his arm. "If my ears do not fail me, Detective Rotkowski and his associates have arrived. Mr. Gerond will not get far. In the meantime, Dr. Phan requires our immediate attention." The Vulcan handed Chekov his phaser and broke out the small medikit. "If you would keep an eye on our remaining audience members..."

"Yes, sir." Keeping one weapon trained on the mourners, Chekov carefully moved forward and retrieved the small hand phaser from Mrs. Grimstead's prone body. Behind him, he could hear the whir of a tricorder and then the hiss of a hypo.

"Mr. Spock!" Rotkowski and several of his officers burst in with Gerond in tow. "What's going on?"

"Kidnapping," the Vulcan answered, holding the still unconscious Dr. Phan in his arms. "This woman was heavily drugged before she was put into stasis. I suggest she be transferred to a medical facility immediately."

At Rotkowski's signal one of his men relieved Spock of his burden. Another carried out the unconscious form of Mrs. Grimstead -- a little less gently. Gerond himself was led from the hall in restraints.

"Two bodies in the coffin, hmm?" Rotkowski observed over the protests of the mourners being arrested by his men. "They could have kept her stashed in this thing indefinitely."

"Yes." Spock held out the medical scan unit so that the detective could examine the readings he'd taken from Thaisin Phan. "Apparently Dr. Phan was not being as co-operative as Gerond and his associates wished."

"Traces of tancin." Rotkowski nodded. "A truth serum. It would take a while to get complicated technical information out of her that way. Gerond must have been keeping her in the box between interrogation sessions. He must have gotten spooked after our search and decided to bury the box with her in it. We would have had to get a special order to dig it up. All they had to do was wait until we stopped searching. Then they could have dug the box up and continued to question her -- or transport her almost anywhere and done almost anything to her they wanted to."

Spock nodded, crossing his arms and stepping back to observe the stasis box. "All in all remarkably reminiscent of a ploy used by the antagonists in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax"."

"The author of the stories about Detective Watson?" Chekov asked, recognizing the name.

"Sherlock Holmes was the detective's name, Ensign," his superior corrected. "He was assisted by Doctor Watson."

"You think these cossacks based their crime on a detective story?" Chekov asked, reholstering his phaser.

"Possibly. Mrs. Grimstead's allusion to Holmes indicates she had at least a passing knowledge of the series," the Vulcan said, then added significantly, "A familiarity with English literature does have its advantages, Ensign."

"Yes, Mr. Spock," Chekov replied dutifully, hoping this didn't mean he was going to be spending the next few weeks wading through the likes of _Beowulf_ and _The Fairie Queen_.

"You mean to tell me you figured this all out because it was like something you read in a book?" Rotkowski asked incredulously.

"No," Spock closed the lid of the top section of the coffin over the face of the old Tellerite woman. "My suspicions were aroused by the fact that Mr. Chekov didn't immediately realize that this stasis box was being used as a coffin -- indicating that his tricorder did not inform him of the presence of a dead body inside. As Gerond pointed out, stasis fields are used to preserve corpses until interment. However, cryogenic storage is a less expensive and more commonly used method. Mr. Chekov's failure to register the presence of the corpse reminded me of a significant difference between cryogenic suspension and stasis. Because they temporarily cease to exist in space and time, items placed in a stasis box will not register on any type of scanning device. Therefore, it stood to reason that the Grimsteads went to the inconvenience and expense of obtaining a stasis box because they wished to store something inside the box that they wished to conceal."

"And that something was Dr. Phan." The detective nodded admiringly. "A nice piece of reasoning there, Commander."

"A simple logical deduction," Chekov boasted with a dismissive shrug. "Elementary."

The Vulcan raised one eyebrow. "I would not say that, Ensign."

  
* * * END * * *

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Fanart) Disappearance of a Lady](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472176) by [Teegar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teegar/pseuds/Teegar)




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